


He has always been with us, but he stays because he wants to

by Hawkbringer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Arson, Canon-Typical Violence, Deal with a Devil, Demon Powers, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Gen, Grell is still Madam Red's servant, M/M, Male Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Masochism, Minor Character Death, Partial Soul Consumption, Rough Kissing, Sadism, Sebastian is a kinky bitch to agree to all these rules, Soul Powers, Tanaka Lives, Think 'warm bodies' esque temporary-power-up magic, Trauma, Vincent is dead but not gone, canon-typical anachronisms, whoops i guess major character death too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: AU: Vincent Phantomhive encounters a demon feasting languidly on a corpse one night, and supposes the being must be terribly bored. So he proposes an exchange - his soul for the protection of his estate and progeny. The demon he names Sebastian performs above and beyond his duty in the years that follow.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis/Vincent Phantomhive
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. First the Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Written 8th July 2014, sloppily edited in march 2020, and un-beta'd, so please forgive the inconsistent name usage, dialogue, and/or other details. Think of this more as a character study than anything.

A demon who is not yet known as Sebastian sneers at the gravely-injured shinigami, new to the job, who had dared to disrupt his meal, as they limped away from him and his prize. He was making a feast of a few humans, miserable souls nobody would miss, whom he had terrorized and haunted into taking their own lives. Really, they ought to know better by now, he muses to himself, making a real mess of the internal organs of one of the unfortunates.

However, he is interrupted yet again, much too quickly for his tastes, but by a living human this time, who dares to look directly at him, and has the gall to not shriek in fear. The demon bares his teeth and conjures a thousand mouths to all hiss at once, //Begone//

"You sure did a number on those Reapers," the human replies conversationally, canting one leg to the side like he intended to stand there a while. "I've never seen any injured that badly."

Starting to get legitimately irritated now at being kept from his meal, the demon 'stands', expanding the perception of mass around itself and advancing on the young man who would definitely be afraid of the thousand-teeth trick, that works every time--

"My name is Vincent. I have a deal to offer you," the human interrupts, the demon's illusion of a space-warping pit of darkness and silence evaporating immediately to almost comedic effect. 

//A deal?// the malformed being hums.

"A contract. Your kind go in for that kind of thing, right?" the man named Vincent continues, actually daring to walk closer and display his empty hands palm out in a gesture of human surrendering this demon has seen many times. "I have need of your powers. In return, I can provide you with that which you clearly, sorely lack... A real challenge. And some entertainment." 

***

It's the entertainment offer that really piques the demon's interest and he finally abandons his gory meal. His black seeping fire-like form solidifies into a black-haired man with impressively-high heels encased in black leather, his skin also pitch black, disturbingly, darker than any African. His teeth shine white out of his pitch-black lips and gums and his long, /long,/ claws twitch as he approaches, heels clicking most disturbingly. Only his eyes are any color - hellfire red. 

Vincent stands unmoved, and patiently spells out the terms of the contract; however, he is not quite as clever as his son will be and fails to include the stipulation never to lie. As a family servant, he is to report to Vincent truthfully and accurately what he learns on fly-on-the-wall missions, to never kill a person who is not actively attacking the Phantomhives without permission, as a shady character may be a contact and thus more valuable alive... At this, the demon's black head nods to the side in a very human gesture that puts Vincent more at ease for a second before he recognizes the ploy and stiffens just a bit more instead.

"And you will protect the Phantomhive family and staff and properties, above all else, until the day I am killed and you may take my soul." 

The devil sets one elbow into his opposite palm and taps a finger against his lips consideringly. "It's a bit of a big ask, with no set date for my payment--" 

"You can eat as we go along." 

Seemingly surprised for a moment, the demon tilts its head to the side in query and that action does /not/ soothe Vincent at all so, paradoxically, he relaxes - it means the devil is not at the moment attempting to seduce him, and a demon being straight with a human, alone at night on unfamiliar roads is an admirable trait in a being from hell, one he wishes to encourage. 

"I am... well, I am quite powerful with this country's underworld. I dispatch a number of unsavory characters, sometimes personally. I can't promise they'd taste better than whatever wretch /that/ thing was-" he nods toward the wasted corpse that barely looks more like a pig than a human in the bare light of the moon - "But it would be fairly regular, if you like that sort of thing." He shrugs. 

The demon licks its night-black lips and Vincent successfully represses a shudder. Long practice, after all. 

"And for the... entertainment?" 

Vincent smiles a poisonously confident smile which makes the devil grin wider. "Wouldn't serving the most powerful noble family in all of Britain while killing lowlifes on the side be entertainment enough?" 

The red eyes widen - Vincent suspects the devil's eyebrows have lifted, but he could not tell. "A noble family....?" 

Vincent clears his throat, as though about to start a lecture. "The Earl of Phantomhive is known as the Villainous Noble family for our extensive network of contacts within the underworld. As the head of the family, I take on cases as the Queen herself declares them to be worth my considerable talents. I have taken down innumerable drug rings, prostitution houses, and I currently run the entirety of East End's opium trade. I make a profit most businessmen would drool over." He's smiling by the end of the list, but the devil's mouth has fallen into a pout. Money doesn't interest him, it seems. "Hmm. Not interested in monetary compensation, I see." 

The smile widens in the darkness. "We have a smart one here." 

"Hmpf. I'm not the most powerful man in England for lack of /brains/. Well, I suppose the variety and possible supernatural nature of many of my cases wouldn't interest you, either. Nor, perhaps, a chance to see how the other half lives? You've never served a noble like me, have you?" 

He does not order the demon to be truthful, and he would have had no power to do so, if he tried, but there is no reason to lie in this case, and the demon's grin widens, past the limits of a human mouth and he licks the edges of his teeth before he answers, truthfully. 

"No, I haven't... A noble like you? Hah! There must not be any like you in all the Empire!" 

Vincent's face goes flat. 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It does not matter if there is, for /I/ will keep you busy enough to make you forget your soul-hunger, demon, if you make a contract with me." 

The demon chuckles, nearly a full-out laugh, and throws its head back, shaking the dripping lines of hair from its pitch-black face. The lamps' and moon's light gleams on his skin like nothing Vincent has ever seen before... not up this close, at least. 

"/That/... I'd like to see." 

Vincent licks his lips unconsciously and the demon smiles wider, retracting his thrust-out face back into the safe curtain of his hair. He tilts it as the smirk remains, and asks, "Your soul for a few unspecified years of service?" 

"As a slave," Vincent clarifies and the smile shrinks. "As, hmm, as the butler of the house, perhaps. A senior servant, I think." He glances up, eyes sharp. "We absolutely must do something about your clothing, however." 

The smile returns and with one twirl, the demon is white-skinned and black-haired, wearing a formal ensemble of black and white finished with a tie and swallow-tail coat; it will be acceptable, with some alterations, and Vincent tells him so. 

He laughs and bows at the waist, eyes still flaming red, claws still evident in his black and pointed nails. "I shall /be/ your slave, Master...?" He is waiting for a name. 

Vincent resists the urge to put out his hand formally, the man's face is that guileless. He trusts him instinctively, and wishes he didn't. "Phantomhive. Earl Phantomhive. My given name is Vincent, but you'll never call me that." The smile widens, but doesn't leave the bounds of human possibility this time. Vincent feels far more at ease that it's obeying limits and /hopes/ his vigilance against trusting the demon will be as constant as it must be. 

"Of /course/... Master." The title rolls off his tongue in a truly sinful cadence and prickles Vincent's skin. He glances quickly left and right and doesn't trust the devil's insistence that they /are/ alone, "if that's what you're wondering." 

Once he is satisfied with his own visual sweep of the area, he rushes his new servant, grabbing his arms and throwing him against the nearest brick wall. The devil's breath leaves him in a rush and he laughs as he pants. 

"Taking liberties already, are we, Master?" His eye twitches at being so easily read, but doesn't stop his forward motion. He collides his whole body from thigh to chest with the false human form of the demon and grips his forearms tightly, squeezing with the intent to break bones, but doesn't manage to. 

Satisfied with that, he knocks the devil's head back against the wall with his own, only succeeding in making the servant laugh. He suspects a similar thing would happen if he attempted to break the devil's nose, so he skips that test and goes straight for his lips, red and pulled tight, which should be very easy to bleed. 

Biting without finesse at the thin layers of skin, trying to ignore the tongue that sweeps over his upper lip, Vincent pulls away when he tastes blood on his tongue, reasonably certain it isn't his own. 

"Hm," he smirks, pleased at the clarity in the devil's eyes, and the color of its tongue where it darts out to lick up its own blood. "You're durable. That's good." 

The devil opens his mouth and laughs with it as though he'd rather be using it for something.... /else/. 

"Care to find out just how durable I can be?" His eyes are half-lidded and while Vincent does, indeed, want to attempt to dismember him just for the confidence of seeing his imperviousness with his own eyes, he's not certain the devil would fail at a bid to both arouse and irritate him into enacting the devil's apparent rape fantasy. 

Disgusted by the thought of /that/ on his cock, Vincent clicks his tongue and looks away, not aware of the faint blush on his pale cheeks that makes the devil chuckle and revise his estimation of the entertainment factor associated with serving the, what did he call himself, the Noble Villain? Or was that Villainous Noble? His smile then stretches the bounds of his new-wrought human form but when Vincent glances back at him, his lips are closed again. 

"I'll need a name," the devil calls after him as Vincent bids him follow. "And you'll need to be /marked/... rather painfully, I might add. Otherwise, I wear this form for my entertainment only, and you won't be able to order me around. I don't think you want a rabid dog loose in your precious little mansion." Vincent steps falter and he half-turns. The indecision on his face is enough to let the devil sweep him into the wall he himself had been so unceremoniously acquainted with earlier. 

It takes so little effort to bloody the back of this strange man's head. He will have to be careful later. But not just yet, the devil tells himself, fisting a black-nailed hand in his new master's lapels. "Well? Master? Who wants to go first?" 

The man spits blood, panting, thankful for the injury, and that it isn't a black eye, as nearly all other injuries are much more easily concealed. He'll be able to justify the devil's arrival by saying he saved him from assailants or something. It doesn't quite matter to him as he breathes hard against the dizzying pain, the inhuman heat of the devil at his front. He looks up into still-red eyes and smirks. "Do something about those eyes, will you, Sebastian?" 

It's the first name that comes to mind, and it seems to fit, as the devil raises one eyebrow and consciously tames the fire in his eyes to a human-like ruddy brown. "Yes, Sebastian Michaelis, I think. That shall be your name." Vincent smirks. "A prolific demonographer of a few hundred years ago. One day, perhaps, I might look you up in his bestiary." 

The newly named Sebastian snarls, somewhat unhappy with the frivolous and gaudy name, but its power has been instated and he loosens his grip on the Earl's front. "Very well, Vincent," he spits, just to see the Earl's eyes tighten. He was not expecting the slap that follows, but thrills a bit, for a masochist he remains, even in this impervious, falsely human form. 

"You are to address me as Lord, Master, or Earl Phantomhive, you cretin," he hisses and Sebastian simply laps up the blood from his re-split lip. 

"Yesss... Master," the devil replies and Vincent pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a bit like he was herding a particularly stupid bunch of puppies. 

"Haahh. Right, now what was that painful marking business you were on about earlier?"

"Oh yes, better not forget that." Sebastian's bare hands reach for his collar and his face gets very close. Vincent opens his mouth to tell him not to /choke/ his new master, for heaven's sake, but the devil simply licks his lips, letting the tip of his tongue trace around the edge of Vincent's, too, as he does so. Unsettled, Vincent swallows once and Sebastian grins. His teeth are still sharp, the earl notes a bit helplessly. 

"I will place my mark on you, and you will become my prey. I will be able to find you... no matter who takes you away from me." He licks his lips again, of the blood, Vincent realizes this time. "So, where do you want it? A tip: the more noticeable it is, the more executable it is. The center of your forehead, perhaps? You would have nearly total command of my actions. I would not recommend the sole of the foot, for someone in your position. You seem like a man that needs... control." Another lick. 

"Do I have to make it noticeable to execute it? To make you follow my orders?" 

"Oh, yes, my lord," Sebastian enthuses, not entirely paying enough attention to the earl's words. "That is why I don't recommend the foot." 

Vincent thinks furiously, about hands and faces and necks and shoulders and, very briefly, where his trousers meet his shirt. 

One hand reaches up to his neck and loosens his tie. The devil's eyebrows lift and Vincent gulps again, knowing he's getting the wrong idea and there's nothing he can do about it. 

He carefully undoes the first two buttons of his shirt and presses one finger beneath his clavicle, over the top half of his breastbone. "Here. Only my wife would see it, and I /will/ be telling her the truth." Sebastian's face splits, but not in a grin, exactly, as he presses one bare hand to the offered skin. 

"But can she /handle/ it?" he whispers as Vincent's skin blackens beneath his touch, as the man himself shudders and jerks and bites his own lip bloody to keep from screaming. 

When Sebastian's hand lifts, there is a perfect imprint of an encircled pentagram burned, seared harshly, into his skin, blacker than any skin burn he's ever seen. He drops his head, despite the searing pain, to look at it, and grunts in satisfaction. When he looks up, Sebastian has raised his hand, and a similar mark, indeed, a perfect copy, is writing itself into the back of his hand as Vincent watches and he supposes it makes sense that that demon wouldn't feel any pain, if he does things like /that/ to /himself/ with any regularity. 

"Are we done?" he hisses, one hand at his shirt, aching to do up the buttons and straighten his tie. Sebastian looks askance at him, dropping his marked hand into his pocket and nods. 

Vincent attempts to do up his shirt as Sebastian watches him, then gives up and huffs. 

"Sebastian, are you capable of making this mark of yours stop /hurting/?" 

"Mild healing powers, you mean? Yes, I'm capable. Do you wish for me to exercise them?" 

Vincent huffs in annoyance. Great, a demon who'll twist his words and make him repeat himself. Perhaps he can issue an order to that effect. 

"/Yes/, Sebastian, that's why I /asked/, obviously." As Sebastian's hand approaches his neck again, he interrupts, "Should I make it an order that you are to assume my intent from the context and act on any implied orders therein? Would that work, I mean?" he adds brusquely, to distract himself from the sensation currently being applied to his chest that is the exact /opposite/ of the burning pain from earlier. 

"Hmm," Sebastian replies noncommittally, concentrating on healing over the burn so it would scar clean and not lose its sharp edges. "Yes, it would," the devil replies once his work is done. "Although, I'm not sure you would enjoy my assumptions." He smiles wide, at his own imaginings, Vincent is sure. "Would you be able to stop me in time?" Vincent shivers and scoffs to cover it. 

"You have standing orders to protect the Phantomhive family, lands, servants, and its master. As a butler, it would be unthinkable for you to imperil any of the master's possessions or business accounts, either, so I'm not worried," he declares. He then fixes his newest servant with a bright-eyed stare and Sebastian nearly shivers himself, feeling his master's pure will pulse into him via the contract symbol on his hand. "It would end badly for you if you do not do as I wish. You can be sure of that." He smiles, watching Sebastian fail to contain his masochistic joy at being spoken to so firmly. "I have contacts that will know what to do with you. Why do you think I didn't run from you in terror, hm? As I said, I am the most powerful noble in England." 

Sebastian bows as he speaks, one hand over his newly-beating heart. "I am starting to believe that, my new master," he murmurs just loudly enough to be heard as Vincent walks toward the entrance of the alleyway, not expecting a knife in the back, so to speak, despite the nature of the thing that walks behind him. 

Sebastian marvels at his implicit trust and decides against a quick and easy kill for the moment. Perhaps this supposedly villainous noble family /would/ prove interesting.


	2. Then the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Vincent's death in the fire, Sebastian is freed from his contract. But he almost immediately discovers that his job is not over...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will it end for them, then? Maybe it wasn't the Queen's orders that resulted in the arson. Maybe it was truly unexpected. If so, Sebastian might be a bit too late to protect Ciel and the boy sees the bloodied bodies of his parents. Maybe he's sleeping in their room when it happens - it would still be on his birthday, right? - and they're murdered right in front of him and Sebastian hears the boy scream, or Vincent's powerful summons, but is busy fighting off the force coming in the basement.

Sebastian drops his glamour, flies inhumanly fast, leaving the servants to their fates, and is at Vincent's side in an instant, killing the intruders in the room and bending over Vincent in his final moments, sucking out his soul, and pocketing it. He contemplates taking Rachel's too, but is a tad too late, as it rises to Heaven, the pure thing she was. 

He smiles a little, watching it Rise, and fondles the sphere in his pocket, so very satisfied with the end to this long, domestic, and violent tale. 

Then Ciel quivers on the bed, pawing at his mother's body - say Vincent got out of bed to grapple with the attackers and Rachel wrapped herself around Ciel but she's not moving and the boy is freaking out, and wasn't paying attention as Sebastian dropped the assailants and crouched over Vincent's body, just thought he was checking him for life-signs, if anything - and crying. 

Sebastian's eyes behold the pitiful spectacle, the frail child and his frail mother, death visited the parent whose job had been done for years and was living on borrowed time, really. His eyes slit and flash briefly as he considers what is to be done with the child. They shift back to ruddy brown as the child notices him standing there and screams his name. 

It's an instinct ingrained in him over the years, he thinks to himself, that's why his heart squeezes at the sound of the child in torment. 

He steps forward and gathers Ciel into his arms, cradling him close as he has only ever done a few times, when his governess wasn't near and neither were his parents. Sebastian shushes him gently, marveling at his own actions as Vincent's soul burns a metaphorical hole in his pocket. He takes a deep breath, scenting the child's soul through his sweat and tears and has only a moment to stand in utter awe of the flavor. 

The fear is common enough in his victims, but the desperation and trust in /him/ are far rarer - he has never been looked to as a human's salvation, in the utterly heart-wrenchingly pure way this boy does. 

Bodies fall in the halls beyond as a roaring mechanical thing spits bullets at an unprecedented rate and Sebastian makes a split-second decision. He breaks a nearby window with a glance and speeds out into the night. He plans to return momentarily and destroy the invading force, but he knows of no place in the mansion that is safe enough for Ciel now - even the cellar-hole would be discovered, with the number of assailants he counts by sound as he leaves the mansion, Ciel's face carefully cradled into his chest, unable to see beyond his shirt and coat lapel. 

As he alights on stoop of the townhouse of Madam Red, in London, the closest relative farthest from the mansion - the Midford manor, he decided in mid-flight, was too close, and therefore too vulnerable - he is planning his strategy. A servant Sebastian recognizes opens the door and Sebastian instructs her to take Ciel to the Madam, that he would return very swiftly, but there has been an attack on the Phantomhive manor; and when her eyes are not on him, but the child he has thrust into her arms, he disappears.

Impressive guns have torn up much of the mansion, and bodies litter the downstairs. A reaper is already present and they lock eyes, each recognizing the other for what they are, before the reaper glances down at his death list and raises his eyebrows at the cause of death for the mobsters - slaughtered by demon - and Sebastian smirks with half his mouth and is gone. The reaper listens to the carnage above and shakes his head, reviewing the cinematic records of the dying and, of course, finding nothing of note. The racket upstairs dies down within minutes, and the demon does not bid him goodbye as he flies out. 

Vincent and Rachel both are empty when the reaper finds them - their souls already collected by a higher power than the Dispatch. That flusters him momentarily, but when he observes their details on the List, he snorts. Stolen by demon, and ear-marked by Heaven, respectively. He has never seen either appellation, though he's heard of them. Certainly, this case'll be one for the bars after work.


	3. Then the Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian returns to Ciel's side, only to run into a familiar pair of eyes in an unfamiliar face, which further cements his desire to remain by the young boy's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the alternate spellings for various names, the male pronouns for Grell, and other scattered non-canonical details. Original writing date was mid 2014, after all, and we had less info then compared to now.

Sebastian is indeed back at Madam Red's house within 15 minutes, impatiently breezing in through the downstairs entrance and bursting into the sitting room where he follows Ciel's sobbing voice. 

Madam Red and her butler gasp at his appearance - the edges of his clothing frayed, blood spattered all over his torso, sweat dripping down his face. He glances down at himself briefly, winces, glances at the butler, and opens his mouth. He gets out "May I borrow--" and the man nods repeatedly, face pale from shock as well. 

Sebastian turns on his heel and is halfway downstairs when he realizes he does not know where the butler keeps his spare uniforms. Impatient and irritated, he rolls his eyes, and detours into the nearby water closet, where he simply flicks the blood and sweat from his form. Squinting at the grimy mirror, he fixes the slashes in his clothing with a single brush of his hand, and, after a moment's contemplation, remolds it in the style of the butler's, more or less, to pretend better that he'd borrowed an outfit. He then breathes for several moments in and out slowly, to calm his frantic, borrowed heart. 

Vincent's soul hammers at the edges of the pocket dimension he'd slipped it into, begging to be put to use, to know all has gone as he wished. Sebastian rolls his eyes once his heart has calmed, takes the orb from his pocket dimension, and presses his lips to it, imparting to Vincent via touch the events of the past half hour or so, assuring him he will be consumed shortly, once the crisis has died down. He'll even retrieve the important documents from the manor, if that would make Vincent quit his griping. 

The dignified soul calms at that, but insists Sebastian return to the house and ensure it hasn't burnt to the ground. Sebastian tells it he thinks that highly unlikely, but reasons he can be there and back in seconds, if Vincent doesn't object to being partially devoured. The soul vibrates with irritated apathy so Sebastian... bites off a piece of him, is the only way to describe what he does to the soul pressed to his lips. 

No agony or pain ripple through it, as it isn't physical, and Sebastian tucks it back into his pocket, and teleports with the power now coursing through his borrowed form, erasing himself from the water closet with broad strokes and rewriting himself into an inferno. 

Vincent's soul, coursing through his veins, pours cold dread through Sebastian, who gathers himself in seconds to teleport into the sky above the manor, observing that only one wing is on fire, and, from his hovering perch, he focuses his will and bids the fire die. Vincent's power helps him render the entire manor silent and smoke-free in a handful of seconds. Through the demon's eyes, Vincent's consciousness directs Sebastian to various stashes and Sebastian leaves with an armload of paper, but not before a groan catches his ears. 

It's Tanaka, the house steward, sitting against a burn-streaked wall, one arm useless, but somehow still alive, despite being the eldest and least active of the servants, and certainly the least strong of constitution. 

Sebastian's nose does not detect a reaper in the vicinity and his eyes widen as he considers that /they overlooked this one/. He knew it possible, but.... 

Ciel will react well to his return, he is certain, but there are no horses left - the mobsters unlocked the stables /and/ set them on fire - and the nearest manor wouldn't know what to do with him... 

Sebastian growls at the responsibilities set upon him now, in this moment that should be his triumph after the last decade of slavery, but decides in a moment, Vincent's consciousness goading him, to take the man to London Hospital, and meet him there tomorrow with Ciel in tow. Tanaka would not ask too many questions about his rescue, he was certain. 

Decided, he spells the man unconscious before he could see or recognize Sebastian, and carries him to the entrance of the prestigious hospital, assuring the secretary that they represented the Phantomhive estate and would be back to call tomorrow to see how well their esteemed senior servant had fared after having broken his arm. He supplies her with the Durless address and telephone number and smiles beguilingly before turning on his heel and disappearing back to the Durless residence. 

He approaches the sitting room a second time, affecting a slightly out of breath countenance, as though he had rushed downstairs after dressing himself in the borrowed butler's clothes. 

Ciel has calmed enough to notice him, to reach for him with his too-thin arms, his big blue eyes pleading. Sebastian glances at the Madam, and she moves to make room for him to sit beside Ciel. 

Adhering to propriety, Sebastian kneels at his lord's son's feet and takes his hand. Ciel launches himself off the couch and wraps both arms around him, not questioning why he still smelled of blood and fire. In his childish state of shock and fear, he claws at Sebastian's weird collar (he notices it has been changed) and exposes the delicious scent of his skin, which he buries his nose against and drenches with snot and tears, his fingers dug in as tight as a kitten's. 

His kitten-like behavior melts Sebastian, just a little, or it might be the dregs of Vincent's power in his veins. (It is not. The multiple teleportations had drained the momentary power-boost from his body. The bite he took of Vincent's soul has dissolved, and the man will not influence him again until he again puts teeth to meal.) 

Madam Red places a hand on Ciel's back and smiles at the pair of them, rubbing her hand in soothing circles until Ciel's nonsensical crying fades and he falls asleep in his servant's arms. 

*****

Sebastian assists the butler in putting the boy to bed in a guest room and Madam Red converses softly with him as she watches her nephew sleep. "He was raving about his mother not moving, men covered in red... Sebastian." Her face hardens as she looks at him as the door clicks closed, leaving Ciel to sleep in peace. "Was there an assassination attempt?" 

His head lowers, not able to look her in the eyes as he responds, "Yes. It was... successful." 

She gasps, putting one hand to her mouth. 

Sebastian's eyes are imploring as he raises his head. "Please understand, I did everything in my power to protect your sister and her husband, but I was below-stairs when the assassins attacked, so I engaged them there, wrongly assuming there were no others..." He drops his eyes again. "I was too late." 

A soft on his cheek jerks his head up and it is indeed the Madam's hand on his face, /forgiveness/, of all things, in her eyes. "But you saved /Ciel/," she emphasizes, taking her hand away once she has his attention. "And I thank you." 

Sebastian looks down and away, unsure how to answer, and so he takes the ingrained 'polite refusal' route. "I cannot accept your thanks, my lady. I have failed you....and my master. What kind of butler allows his master to be murdered right under his nose?" 

At the mention of Vincent, Madam's face falls and she turns her head away. "This..." She sighs. "This will take...some time... for Ciel and I both." She smiles to hide the pain. "I truly hope we will be able to rely on your support, Sebastian, during the grieving period." 

He nods, not raising his eyes. "Absolutely, my lady." 

She tries to smile, but doesn't quite manage. Sebastian doesn't see her failure, in any case. "Good. In that case, you're dismissed for the night. I'm sure the servants can find a spare bed for you. I'll let them handle getting you settled in - I'm going to have my hands full caring for Ciel for the next few weeks." 

"The next few weeks?" Sebastian asks too bluntly, eyes blank with incomprehension. 

"But of course!" Angelina replies, nonplussed. "You can hardly return to the mansion, can you? All those bad memories for Ciel... He needs family around him during this terrible time, and you'll stay by his side, won't you? Oh, but... I hadn't even considered you might want to look for alternate employment," she mutters, looking aside. 

"I don't, my lady," he assures her. "I have no wish to be anywhere but your nephew's side. If it is agreeable to you, it appears I shall be joining the household staff as his steward, for the time being." 

"Yes," she acquiesces easily, "that is quite agreeable." She moves toward her bedroom and nods down the stairs, where the butler is approaching to ask why he still hears her voice, it is late, does she not wish to retire, and similar questions. "Grelle," she addresses the man with too-long dark brown hair. "See to it that Sebastian has a place to sleep for tonight, will you? He'll be joining the house staff temporarily while my nephew grieves." 

His shoulders sag, an over-the-top display of pity for the nephew, or perhaps the annoyance of a new addition to the staff. "Yes, my lady," he says sadly, and spares barely a glance for Sebastian as he descends the stairs. Angelina turns away and as the door to her room clicks behind her, Sebastian stops halfway down the stairs. 

"Actually, sir - Grelle, was it? - I find myself completely unable to sleep tonight - all the excitement, you see--" The butler glances back at him briefly, disdain and incomprehension in his eyes, so Sebastian swiftly covers, "Ahh, the terrible, terrible events, of course. I find myself so very agitated over the state of the mansion, the murder of my master.... You understand, don't you, Grelle?" 

The cold eyes flick forward, looking at a non-descript wall. Sebastian can't read him at all; it's unsettling. 

"That is, I would prefer to remain at the child's side, if that would be acceptable. I only need a chair to sleep in for the time being. I wish to ensure he remains safe. Not that I don't trust the staff here, of course!" he hurriedly adds and the butler's face breaks into a rather disturbingly wide grin and Sebastian suddenly recognizes the color of his eyes and floods cold with fear, knowing the deadly capabilities of this creature. But then Grelle opens his mouth. 

"I'm sure you meant no insult, Sebastian darling," and the affected high pitch of his voice downgrades Sebastian's threat level assessment by several points, though it really should not have - "And that would be perfectly acceptable, of course. He's less likely to scream upon waking with a familiar face nearby, after all." 

He looks back at Sebastian, eyes still cold, but mouth quirked in half a smirk that Sebastian recognizes from his own face - "And quit acting like a virgin on his wedding night - /you're/ my superior as of tomorrow, after all." 

"What?" Sebastian's face is the blank one now, completely uncomprehending. 

Grelle sighs, a bit of wistfulness appearing in his cold eyes. "I am forced to admit, I've been watching you, Sebastian dear." The demon is not as affected by that admission as the reaper had hoped he'd be, so he continues. "You're a far more deathly efficient butler than I am. And I must confess," he continues, flipping his hair over one shoulder and holding his chin high as though to counter the self-deprecation in his next words, "I work better with some... supervision." 

Sebastian raises one eyebrow, uncertain if he is being flirted with. There must be a double-entendre somewhere in that butler's words. 

"I'm quite serious," he returns, the smile dropping from his face. "I'm not cut out for the level of detail required of a butler to /nobility/." The title drips sarcastically from his lips and Sebastian resolves to redouble his efforts to insulate his young charge from this hapless, and now definitely subterfugal, 'servant'. 

"You, however..." He glances up and down Sebastian's form very swiftly and seems to find him wanting, "seem quite well-adapted to the role." A saw-toothed smile stretches his face and Sebastian tenses. "How long has it been for you? Years? I've seen you so many times, it must be longer than mine." 

"My term of service? Yes, I've been with the Phantomhives for over ten years now." 

"Ohh, since before the birth of that...ahh, /noble/ child?" 

"Brat, you were going to say?" Sebastian lets a smile tug at his own lips, but not so wide as this creature is allowing on himself. "Yes, he is, but his father certainly wasn't, so I hold out hope for his maturity yet." 

Grelle holds his face frozen for a moment, then snorts and closes his leering lips. "I'm impressed," though he doesn't sound it, "I've only been here for 5 years and goodness, it is /dreadfully/ boring. Well," he glances back as he descends the stairs into pure darkness, apparently not needing candles for light, "/this/ part of it, anyway. I'll see you in the morning, Sebastian darling." 

Scowling at the man's impolite dismissal, Sebastian steps hurriedly up the stairs and opens Ciel's door silently, espying a chair and setting it across the room in a position that allows him to hide behind an opening door, if any unfriendly visitors appear, and to see Ciel's sleeping face, which he's quite sure Vincent will be happy to see when he absorbs him. 

The devil of a butler settles into the chair, loosening all the fasteners of his clothing in case his form shifts as he feasts, which isn't unheard of - has in fact happened to him before. He throws up a barrier of impenetrable shadow to protect the sight from Ciel, should he wake during the night, and sets it to dissolve near daybreak, then takes Vincent's soul out of its holding cell and licks it. Vincent vibrates very slightly against his tongue, and he smiles as his teeth elongate and he /feasts/.


End file.
